


Not a Scratch

by zeplum



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 11:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11758539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeplum/pseuds/zeplum
Summary: Because the notion of Angie and Dum Dum meeting was too good to pass up.Originally written in September 2015.





	Not a Scratch

One thing's for sure, rooming with Peggy Carter ain't boring. 

Peg comes in at all hours, in all states. Howard Stark's butler is there more often than not, but Angie doesn't mind because he usually brings homemade cakes or pies, and it's not so long after they've come off rations for the novelty to have worn off.

Hell, even Howard himself stops by on occasion; it's grand, the face that Peg makes when he comes through the door, equal parts fond and exasperated.

But even with Stark as a regular visitor, nothing prepares Angie when she opens the door on a dreary October day to find Dum Dum Dugan on the other side. 

Her first thought that is he should never, ever take that ridiculous hat off. The hat may be ridiculous, but Dugan's hair may even be _more_ ridiculous, and frankly, the less attention paid to the mustache, the better for all involved. 

Her second thought is that they'd been missing out because the newsreels could never show just how blue his eyes are, or that in person, his smile is infectious.

Angie makes sure to look as sour as possible.

"Hey, English, it's for you!"

Dugan, to his credit, continues to look amused as Angie waves him in with an exaggerated sweep of her hand. She fights the urge to curtsy or bow; he's not royalty, but he _is_ a Howling Commando and that's close enough.

*

Angie grew up in Sunnyside, Queens and is no stranger to first aid. She isn't a field medic or a nurse, but she's patched up her kid brother's knees as he sat on the kitchen counter and removed splinters from her sister's fingers under the bright light of the parlor lamp. There was even the memorable occasion when Angie had to walk home six blocks with two bloody knees, a scraped elbow and gravel in her palms after she fell off her neighbor's bicycle. That one she had to take care of herself because while Mrs. Martinelli is a warm hearted woman she is awful at that kind of thing. The Martinelli kids learned to tend to their own wounds.

However, having her secret agent roommate arrive home at one o'clock in the morning, a Howling Commando in tow, and both of them looking like they'd both been dragged behind a truck is more than she can deal with on two hours of sleep after a fourteen hour day.

She takes one look at them and goes for the aid kit. They keep one in the kitchen now, because of times like these and because Angie's not so great at cooking.

All Angie can see are scratches and scrapes and bruises, and Peggy hasn't even taken off her jacket yet. Still, Angie's already armed with bandages and peroxide ready to get to work. "I said 'not a scratch on her'!" 

"You said to bring her home in one piece!" Dugan cries with exasperation. 

"Her," Peggy says, voice dripping with deadpan English sarcasm, "is right here and is perfectly fine." She's sitting sedately at the kitchen table like she's not even in pain, stiff upper lip and all that.

Angie scowls at Peggy. "You're not helping."

"I'm sorry, is that what this is all about?" Peggy takes the peroxide and bandages and starts taking off her jacket, albeit with a great amount of care. "Sam Sawyer is a first rate field medic --"

"He's not really a medic," Dugan interrupts. "He just has a softer touch than the rest of us."

"Now _you're_ not helping. Timothy, please go to the linen closet and bring back extra towels. I'm afraid tea towels aren't appropriate for this."

"Linen closet?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow at Angie. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, but only barely. She hasn't forgiven him for bringing back Peg all banged up, but he's pretty banged up too. Who the hell let them go through the city looking like this?

"Through the door, across the living room, down the hall to the left, another left, third door on the right." She makes sure her smile is sharp. It's the one she uses at the automat when it's closing time but someone comes in for three pieces of pie and five cups of coffee.

"Howard." Dugan only shakes his head and smiles, but his is real and warm.

"Send up a distress signal if you get lost. We'll send the dogs to find you!"

*

Before she meets Peggy, the most dangerous thing that Angie's ever done is played lookout while Sarah Weinstein swiped pickles from the barrels in the basement of her pop's deli.

"C'mon, that can't be true."

"It's all that I'll admit to."

"Pickle stealing. Now I've heard everything."

"They were the best pickles in the neighborhood; cucumbers straight from Mrs. Weinstein's Victory Garden --"

"And straight into your thieving hands."

"Oh, we're pretty sure that Pop Weinstein knew exactly what we were doing. Pickles he could spare, but other things? Not so much."

It feels wrong now, to think pickle thievery or any of her other misadventures as dangerous. Dangerous is leaving home, signing up for a war and going far away to witness death and life, evil and grace, all in a sea of mud or a hellscape of coral.

Dugan looks fond and sad whenever someone mentions Captain America, same as Peg. He was a hero and poster boy to a whole country, but he was their _friend_. Angie never asks about how they met, exactly how they became the Howling Commandos, but she's met Morita and Fallsworth and she's heard about how war can form bonds of brotherhood, but with them, it's different.

"Don't knock it. Playing lookout is the most dangerous job; we weren't even on a mission, just Jones and Dernier raiding a wine cellar. I've faced down Wehrmacht shock troops, elite Hydra forces, and the most frightened I've ever been was waiting for those two fools to come back up before some poor French grandmother came at me with a rolling pin. And chickens."

She won't even ask about the chickens. "Was it good wine?"

"The best," he sighs. "Ill gotten gains are often the best, but don't tell Cap." 

He realizes the slip immediately and for such a big man, Angie watches Dugan shrink into himself.

"Secret's safe, Dum Dum." Angie says it quietly, like secrets are supposed to be revealed. The big lug blushes at that, and she can't help but smile. Grown man, Howling Commando, personality as big as life and he blushes like a schoolgirl.

"You'll never have to play lookout while I'm around, I promise."


End file.
